From this side, the car containing Spillane was only two hundred and fifty feet away.
"And there ain't no use waitin' for Hall," Spillane went on.
They were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers, who lived in a lonely valley a dozen miles back from the river.
Jerry noted that he was nervous and abrupt in his movements, and that Mrs. Spillane seemed laboring under some strong anxiety.
The woman began to weep quietly, while Spillane dropped a troubled exclamation and strode to the window.
Spillane shouted, to make himself heard above the roar of the wind.
Spillane shook his head, and demanded, "Where's your father?"
Spillane heard, for he saw him rise up cautiously on his knees, and with his hands go over both trolley-wheels.
He could sit around and quote old-time book-authors by the hour—classic writers like Prather and Spillane.
Spillane groaned, and fiercely drove his clenched fist into the palm of the other hand.